To fold the soil or severmuscle with the teeth, spit seed to the wind or dribble praises manfully down the cheek, ah, heady sin! Tears!

The silt of September's enough! Hard clay of October be bust! A fist to the day's end, black blade pierce the heartif I cannot kiss you, oh Mud, cannot push my face intoyour belly moaning thick-love of the world, eating fossil and coal, drinking ancient tarand artesian melt-if I cannot have it thenI have not known the Jehovah Man.I have breathed salt for nothing, taken all words for fool'sbedding, crushed themlike my brother, flung themover fences, slain themall to the last letter, each a shattered stilt.

Even upon the word of my nameI bring down the stone.But in vain. Each blowcannot crush it. No end.No prayer.